Will You, Won't You, Will You, Won't You, Won't You Join The Dance?
by GoddessOfTechnology
Summary: Jack Frost. The terror of the spirit world. Cool, calm and collected in appearance, but a bloody killer in reality. At least, that's what the Guardians thought at first. Now, they aren't so sure...(severe AU, rated T for blood and violence. Contains references to multiple-personality disorder.) (FIRST CHAPTER OF REWRITE NOW UP! New edition is called "A Pocketful Of Posies")
1. Prologue

**A/N: Okay...so, you know that thing where I wanted to stick just with "Shards of Ice" and NOT start a chapter story?**

 **Well, that plan got screwed. Congrats, people, you now have the beginnings of a chapter story.**

 **Don't make me regret this...**

 **BTW, this is very. Very. Very AU. I repeat, very AU. This is so AU I can't even...**

 **So if you come to me with complaints along the lines of, "well, this isn't really what happened in the movie..." then I will not be held responsible for my actions.**

 **Got that?  
**

 **Okay.**

 **Now here's a short prologue. Enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I own a computer, a sarcastic streak a mile wide, and a load of sass, but not RotG.**

* * *

Emily Nordwind Overland had always known that her son was a strange child.

Oh, she may try to deny it, and hide it, and avoid it, but the fact remained that her dear Jackson was very, very, _very_ far from normal.

She had realized this when he was but a little child, when his chocolate-brown eyes would glaze over slightly, gazing at something far away that no one else could see. He would stay utterly frozen for a few seconds, before abruptly coming back to his senses and shaking his little 'fit' off.

At first, Emily had thought nothing of it. As long as he didn't hurt or damage people or things, she was content.

Then, it started getting worse.

His 'fits' grew longer, and he would sometimes freeze for hours at a time, barely blinking and barely breathing as he looked intently at something only he could see. Sometimes, his mouth would open and he would mumble half-intelligible phrases and words that meant nothing (at least, as far as she could tell. The words he uttered during his 'fits' were more slurs than anything else, but she was able to make out a few, such as "Angel", "trapped", and "mine").

It only grew worse and worse. Doctors could do nothing for him, not even when his 'fits' grew more violent. She still remembered that time when he had smashed a plate during one of them.

Then, the climax came. Jackson had been playing with other children when one of his "fits" came upon him. From what witnesses had claimed, 'that strange Overland child' had stared oddly at one of the older boys, before he had, without provocation, attacked him. The boy had sustained several injuries, and the worst part was that when Jack came back to his senses, he had no memory of his assault on his playmate.

It had gone too far.

It didn't mean that she didn't love him all the same, however. A mother's love is constant and unchanging, and just because her child was not quite right in the head didn't mean that she didn't love him with every fiber of her being.

But these were troubled times, where superstition and fear abounded, and being 'strange' could have drastic and bloody consequences. People were only too willing to rip other people apart, just because of an inkling of a suspicion that a person may be possessed, or a witch, or a demon.

Personally, Emily didn't believe in such superstitious nonsense. But it wasn't her opinion that mattered, after all.

So they had moved. Moved away from the village, to a small abandoned cottage in the middle of the woods. It was a cozy place, with game to hunt and a lake nearby for fishing. And it was here that she and her husband had their second child, a girl they had named Emmaline. A beautiful, kind, charming, blissfully _normal_ girl.

Needless to say, Emily and her husband had doted on the child. Emmaline had grown up in a world where everything was perfect and the words "No, Emmaline" did not exist. She had been practically spoiled. And Jackson (inept, crazy, sick, _broken_ Jackson) had been left on the sidelines, left to watch as his parents and younger sibling lived in a small world of their own where he had no place. No one had noticed when his 'fits' grew more frequent and longer, when there were times that he felt he had no control over his limbs or mind, when he slowly began to spiral into the depths of terrifying insanity.

And it was only when her husband died, that Emily realized how utterly _stupid_ she had been. How callous she had been to abandon her son when he needed her most. How horrible she had been to her only son.

The problem was, by that time, it was too late.

* * *

The mother of two pressed her back against the wall, the tiny hand of her daughter held tightly in her fingers. She knew what was going to happen. It was inevitable.

But such was her fate, she mused. She had sinned when she had abandoned her son, and now it was time for her to face the consequences. She could only hope that her daughter wouldn't get caught in the crossfire.

She gazed into the eyes of the boy in front of her (not her son, that _fiend_ was _not_ her son). She ignored the knife the fiend was holding, she ignored his strangely blank and emotionless face, she ignored the dark red liquid staining his fingertips. She had eyes only for his own.

"Jack, don't do this. Think of your sister."

The fiend stared at her, his face still blank, his brown eyes hazy and unfocused.

And then he spoke, a harsh, disused sound, as if he had been swallowing pebbles.

"I am not Jack."

He moved closer to her, the pungent smell of coppery pain clinging closely to his frame. Emily's heart faltered as he suddenly grinned at her, and she noticed with a jolt that his white teeth were now more like pointed fangs.

Then the knife was at her throat, and her breathing stopped.

And the gravelly voice spoke once more.

"My name is Angel."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Oookay, Sparky, so here's the deal. Jack has some weird multiple-personality issues. His alter ego is named Angel (later Snow Angel). Jack is good. Angel is a killer. Jack can't remember anything he does as Angel and vice versa. Ya see?**

 **...**

 **Meh, don't worry. It'll all become clear soon.**

 **See ya next chappie, folks! ::waves::**

 **P.S. Also, if you review, you get cookies! :3**

 **Nah, just kidding. You won't get any cookies. But you'll get a happy authoress...who will update faster...(yes this is bribery).**

 **...Think about it?**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Turns out people actually like this piece of trash that I dare to call a horror story. So I'm continuing it. Yes, I'm sure you're all very thrilled.**

 **...**

 **So, not a heck of a lot of action in this chappie. In fact, it's more of an explanatory thing. But the action is coming, young ones. The action is coming. You must be patient.**

 **::evil giggle::**

 **Now...enjoy. And remember, reviews fill my soul with joy and happiness...which gets translated into more horror and death in my stories. The more reviews, the more death. Ya see? :3**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own. No, seriously, I don't. If I did, I wouldn't be on permanent "irritated sarcasm followed by bouts of depraved insanity" mode. I would be free...happy...uncaring...?  
**

 **...**

 **Nah. I'd still be sarcastic and insane. Even if I did own RotG.**

 **Which I don't, by the way.**

 **(As much as I want to)**

* * *

Words are funny little things, passed down from age to age, with embellishments added at every turn until the end result is radically different from the actual truth. Such is the fate of almost every story or legend, and one must take all such outlandish tales with a hefty dose of salt.

All except for one.

The bloody tale of Jack Frost and the Snow Angel.

This story is unique, in that it is so horrifying that no such exaggerations were needed. Grisly tales are these, enough to give a seasoned warrior nightmares for a week.

And the most frightening thing about this terrifying tale is that every word is true.

Every hair-raising detail, of pain and bleeding and screams and madness, is true. All of it. Every single word.

Of course, the Guardians weren't to know that. And it would have stayed that way, for many a year, had the Guardian of Hope not made one fatal slip-up.

One single word, that changed things forever.

Yes, words are indeed funny little things.

* * *

"Hey, Kangaroo!"

Bunnymund resisted the sudden urge to hit his head on a nearby tree. Was it really too much to ask for one peaceful moment in his own Warren?

"Kangaroo!"

Apparently, yes.

Bunny sighed and went back to painting his egg. Maybe if he didn't say anything, Jack would take the hint and simply leave.

"Kangaroo! I know you're in here! Come on out!"

Hahaha, _no_.

"Kangaroo?"

Silence.

"Well, if you're going to be difficult, I suppose you must face the consequences!"

Involuntarily, Bunny felt the fur on the back of his neck rising. He knew he was being silly-Jack would never hurt him, after all-but old habits were hard to break, and those words sounded far too sinister for the Pooka's taste. Instinctively, Bunny reached for a boomerang, only to be interrupted by a horrendous din that sounded like it came from the depths of Tartarus itself.

"I've got a lovely bunch of kangaroos, there they are all standing in a row, big ones, small ones, some as big as your head~"

...Note to self. Never, ever, ever ask Jack to sing. Ever. Under any circumstances.

Stifling a groan of agony (his ears were sensitive, after all, and the horrible screeching that was Jack's singing was like some sort of refined torture for the Pooka), the overgrown rabbit hastily dropped his egg and clamped his furry paws over his ears in an attempt to block out the hellish noise.

"Give them a twist, a flick of the wrist, that's what the Groundhog said~"

Nope, still hellish.

Although, Bunnymund mused, it could be worse. He supposed that they were fortunate that Jack was not the bloodthirsty killer that the rest of the spirit world insisted he was, and that his weapons of torture were limited only to his dreadful singing voice, and did not extend to knives and daggers.

To be honest, he was wondering where that particular story came from. Spirits young and old were adamant that Jack Frost may seem like an annoying yet harmless kid, but that at the slightest provocation, he would turn into the bloodthirsty killer known as the Snow Angel. Frightening yet ludicrous tales were told of razor-sharp claws, deadly fangs, and white blank eyes that froze you where you stood. Spirits cowered as they spoke of cruel knives and swords made of ice, of mad laughter as screams of pain ripped through the air. By all accounts, the kid was about as sane as a character from _Alice In Wonderland._

Yet here they were, three years into the making of a beautiful friendship (and maybe even a _family_ of sorts) with the frost child, and none of the Guardians were the worse for it.

Well, except for Bunnymund's ears, that was.

Speaking of which…

"I've got a lovely bunch of kangaroos~"

"Alright, ya bloody galah, I'm here! Stop that noise before my ears burst from that screechy voice of yers!"

Almost immediately, the teen was perched in the middle of the tree nearest Bunnymund, his mouth stretched in a mile-wide Cheshire cat grin as he looked down at the Pooka. "The Easter Kangaroo without ears? That would be a funny sight."

"Rack off, ya bloody showpony."

"Nope!"

"Rack off before ya freeze my Warren."

"Why do you always assume the worst of me?"

"Because I know ya, that's why."

The frost teen chuckled. "Now you're just being mean, 'Roo."

Bunnymund raised his left eyebrow one-eighth of an inch, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "Am I? It seems ta me like I must be a walk in the park compared ta some of the other nature spirits."

Silence.

"...What are you talking about, 'Roo?"

The winter spirit seemed to have undergone a drastic change of mood. His normally cheerful cerulean eyes had now darkened to a vivid Prussian blue, and his expression seemed closed and cut off. His posture was tense and rigid, like a cornered animal's.

It was frightening to see the younger spirit's mood change so abruptly and without warning.

But Bunnymund was never one to walk away from a challenge, and despite the fact that every warning bell in his head was ringing loud and clear, the Pooka continued stubbornly.

"Ya know what I mean, Frostbite. All those idiots that say ya spend yer time killin' people. Surely ya know about those dumb ratbags, dontcha?"

The winter spirit's eyes darkened even more, and his grip on his staff tightened. "I suppose so."

…

"What have they told you?"

"...What do ya mean?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean, _Bunnymund_. What. Have. They. Told. You."

Bunnymund jumped slightly as Jack's voice abruptly lowered to a deadly hiss. The winter spirit looked downright murderous as he glared at Bunnymund, and for the first time the Pooka realized that it would be painfully easy for the frost child to hurt him…

Bunnymund looked away.

"Just the usual rumors, mate. Nothin' worth worryin' yerself over. It's not like they're true, anyhow."

There was a tense silence as a sharp gust of wind sliced through the Warren, rustling the leaves of the trees.

"...Did you believe them?"

"Huh?"

"The rumors. Did you believe them?"

"...At first." _Still do, a little._

Another silence, as the temperature began to creep steadily lower.

Then, Bunnymund lifted his head to look at Jack, and everything he ever thought he knew about Jack Frost abruptly went out the window.

Aster was stunned into silence, as Jack's hurt-filled blue orbs suddenly turned distant, as his clothes seemed to be slowly bleaching of color, as the teen's teeth sharpened and his fingernails lengthened into claws…

And then he vanished.

And there was nothing left except for a cold gust of wind and an empty tree branch, covered in blue-white frost.

* * *

 **A/N: So...not a lot of action, like I said. But things are moving.**

 **Stuff is tense between the Guardians and Jack, y'know? Bunny is evidently still on his guard (seeing as he reached for his boomerangs as soon as Jack said something ominous), and Jack is delightfully unhinged and unstable, and is going into a little "episode" because Bunny doesn't trust him, and never really has.**

 **Yes, Jack's overreactions to everything is intentional. He's insane, in case you didn't get that from the previous chapter.**

 **So...yeah. Bunny has just caused Jack Frost, one of the most dangerous and unstable spirits in the world, to have a mental breakdown.**

 **...This can't go anywhere good.**

 **...**

 **...Review? (in the interests of more blood and action and horror?)**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: You people had been so good with your reviews that I just _had_ to give you an early update. Take that how you will...**

 **Again, not much action, but...**

 **Hey.**

 **Look at the story genres.**

 **Horror and suspense.**

 _ **Suspense.**_

 **Don't look at me like that...it's your own fault for not checking the genres in the first place...  
**

 **(Also, for those of you wondering...this story's new and improved cover image is a picture that's in the public domain (don't worry, I checked), which means I'm allowed to use it. It's a painting called "The Death of the Gravedigger" by Carlos Schwabe. I got it off of Wikimedia Commons)**

 **Disclaimer:** **Guys...if I owned RotG...then the movie would have been a heck of a lot darker. As in, a _heck_ of a lot. Probably PG-13, or maybe even R-rated. Definitely _not_ a kid's movie.**

* * *

 _We should never have trusted you!_

 _They never believed in you. I was just trying to show you that. But I understand._

 _Honestly, I think we just dodged a bullet. The kid's a menace! What does_ _ **he**_ _know about bringing joy to children?_

 _Don't you know? You're a_ _ **murderer**_ _, Frost. No wonder no one ever believes in you._

 _You bastard! You killed my sister! I'll get you for this, Snow Angel!_

 _...Jack, don't do this. Think of your sister…_

* * *

A person, defying all rules of physics or logic, landed on the peak of a mountain in the Himalayan mountain range as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing.

He was a strange-looking person, this one, his skin, clothes, and hair strangely bleached, his blue eyes and brown staff the only bits of color in the entire ensemble. He almost seemed to blend into the snowy background.

Pale bare feet touched down lightly on the snowy peak, soon followed by a frail-looking body as the frost child practically threw himself onto his back. Vivid blue eyes stared up into an equally vivid blue sky, as the never-ending mantra repeated itself over and over inside his head.

 _Don't slip. Don't slip. Don't slip._

His fingers, now clawed, buried themselves into the ground as he shut his eyes tightly. He couldn't slip now. Not when Bunny was so suspicious. He would only be proving the rumors right-

The rumors.

He hated the rumors.

Stupid stories, about murder and blood and heartbreak, with him as the instigator. Five years ago, he would have laughed at the absurdities that the spirit world came up with. He, _killing_ people? The very idea was laughable.

But now, things were different. Ever since he had seen his memories, ever since he had noticed the small yet persistent discrepancies, he had been stalked by a strange feeling of anxiety that had consumed his heart and mind whole. Now, he was forced to admit to himself that he was wrong, and the rumors were right.

He was a murderer.

A cruel, cold, crazy, callous murderer.

Since that revelation, he had been trying to control his occasional spirals into insanity. What he had previously thought of as mere lapses in memory were now revealed to have been a symptom of his mental sickness all along.

But the best he had been able to do was to briefly pause the transition from sanity to _in_ sanity. Now he was stuck in an in-between state, the slightest provocation able to send him off the deep end for good.

Sometimes he wondered if it was even worth it. To struggle so hard for so long, only to lose to the crippling madness after all. In fact, if it weren't for the risk of hurting the Guardians, he would simply let go-

The Guardians.

…

All those months, he had thought they had trusted him, at least a little. But his encounter with Bunnymund only served to show how utterly _naive_ he had been.

They didn't trust him, they were _afraid_ of him. It was painfully obvious from the way they flinched when he neared them, or the way their hands instinctively twitched towards their respective weapons if he happened to startle or frighten them.

...How had he not seen it before…?

Dull blue eyes slid open, their bright color slowly fading away into a milky-blue as his mind began to spiral away. Briefly, he felt a stab of shame at allowing himself to give up so easily...

...But if the Guardians _didn't_ trust him...if they _weren't_ a family...if everything he had ever thought about their little camaraderie was _wrong_ …

Than what was the point of even hanging on at all?

* * *

It was a busy day at the Tooth Palace, which was entirely normal.

Ciriya was also in the middle of panicking, which was _not_ entirely normal.

The small fairy flitted haphazardly around the Palace, barely paying attention to her surroundings as she tried, and failed, to focus on her work, while her little head was filled with worries and anxious thoughts.

Something was wrong with her Jack.

Now, it was little known in the spirit world, but Tooth Fairies were highly affectionate and caring individuals, with a tendency to form bonds with any spirit that they happened to take a particular liking too. And while the little fairies were always loyal to their Queen first, and their bondmate second, that didn't mean that the bond they would sometimes form went without its consequences.

Ciriya, also known as Baby Tooth, had formed just such a bond with the immortal teen known as Jack Frost. And one of the consequences of this bond was that the two now shared a sort of _connection_.

It wasn't a strong connection, of course. The two couldn't share thoughts, for example. But they could share emotions, and right now, Ciriya could tell that there was definitely something wrong with Jack.

She thought back briefly on the events that had led to her current state of distress.

At first, she had been able to feel the teen's usual happy mood (tinged as it usually was with a dash of anxiety and bitterness, which she assumed was normal for him). Then, with a suddenness that had left the little fairy practically gasping for breath, the good mood had shifted into a churning mess of sorrow, hatred, and a deadly fear that was definitely _not_ her own.

Now, that sorrow and fear had abruptly vanished after plaguing Ciriya for at least fifteen minutes, and the fairy was nearly frantic.

What could this mean? How had Jack's mood shifted so abruptly, and why did it feel now as if their connection had been suddenly...dissolved?

Something was definitely wrong with her Jack.

And Ciriya was determined to find out just _what_ was wrong with her bondmate.

* * *

Looking back, Bunny was honestly surprised they had lasted this long.

The rabbit dashed through the tunnel, his feet a mere blur as he ran through the earthen corridor. His breath was coming in sharp gasps, and his side ached, but he continued onwards resolutely.

He had to warn North. What with the continuously low temperatures of the Pole, it was only logical that the Snow Angel would strike there first, if given proper provocation. And Bunny's little screw-up in the Warren _definitely_ counted as "proper provocation".

The rabbit cursed himself as he forced himself to run faster. He just had to open his mouth, hadn't he? He just _had_ to push Jack off the deep end.

But there was no point in mourning his stupidity. Now, his priority was to warn North, as well as the rest of the Guardians. There was no time to waste if they wanted to prepare themselves for the inevitable attack heading their way.

His chest heaving, the Pooka increased his speed.

* * *

 **A/N: So...Jack is spiraling into the depths of insanity, Bunny is freaking out, and Ciriya (aka Baby Tooth) is going batshit crazy trying to figure out just what the heck is going on.  
**

 **Hm.**

 **This is only the beginning...:D**

 **...Review?**


	4. Notice: Rewrite Pending

**A/N: Hey, everyone.  
**

 **This is not an actual update. This is an announcement that I am about to do something that greatly pains me. Your heartwarming support and encouraging reviews have literally brought tears to my eyes more than once, and I deeply regret having to do this.**

 **To be entirely honest, I wasn't expecting this story to be so successful. Heck, I wasn't even expecting it to be _noticed._ I honestly thought that I wouldn't get more than five or six reviews for the whole shebang. But now that this story has gained so much popularity, I feel like it is my duty as a writer to make it as good as I possibly can. And the last few chapters were...far from my best work.**

 **I look back at this story, and I realize that it's actually rotten to the core. None of the chapters flow properly. The story's rushed. The narrative jumps all over the place. Nothing makes any sense. It's one huge, stinking mess. And I have to fix it.**

 **I _have_ to fix it.**

 **Which brings me to what I'm about to do.**

 **As much as I regret it, I'm afraid I will have to put this story on hold for a little while. Long enough to write it from beginning to end, put it through multiple rounds of betareading, edit it, tweak it, and alter it until it flows smoothly from one chapter to the next. This thing is my story, my child, and _dammit I want to get it right_.**

 **Heck, even if I wanted to continue the story as it is, I _can't._ It's like trying to build a mansion on top of a rotten foundation. No matter how good you make the later chapters, the original bad chapters will still spoil the whole thing and make it collapse into a heap of rubble.  
**

 **Make no mistake, I am NOT abandoning this story. I adore it too much for me to do that. But I want to make it as good as I possibly can, damn the consequences.**

 **So yeah.**

 **In the meantime, though, feel free to check out "Shards of Ice" and "The Storyteller's Scrapbook", and keep an eye out for future fics from me, as I have more planned. Also, please check out "A Cold Day In Hell" by DragonflyonBreak, as it is a fantastic story, as well as one of my main inspirations for this story. You might also want to consider "Restoring Balance" by WinterCrystal1009, which is another inspiration for this story and also an excellent fanfiction.**

 **My most sincere apologies, and please don't bring in your pitchforks.**

 **Yours,**

 **~GoddessOfTechnology**

 **P.S. Also, could guest reviewer _N_ log in or sign up, please? I'd appreciate it if someone who has experience with MPD could work with me on this story, as I have little to no experience with this disorder. While Jack's 'problem' is indeed a mix of supernatural and reality, I'd like to have the real parts be as accurate as possible. Thank you.**


End file.
